The Handkerchief
by Fitzcarraldo
Summary: slash HPDM Malfoy was startled to feel a touch on his arm. 'Alright' It was Harry. 'Yes, fine...' Malfoy faltered. He felt something convulsive like panic at the other boy's nearness. A fierce stab of selfloathing.
1. Chapter 1

**The Handkerchief**

**Full Summary:** No one knows that Draco Malfoy has only pretended to be friends with Harry Potter for the last four years. Embittered and cynical, Malfoy means to bring about Harry's ruin by poisoning him against Hermione and Ron. Malfoy claims to hate Harry, though the reasons behind his hatred are ambiguous and, as Harry becomes more and more entangled in Draco's lies, their relationship deepens into something dark and intense.

**A/N:** This fanfic is based on Shakespeare's 'Othello'. While the plot and many major themes are borrowed from the play, such elements as characterisation and setting are firmly rooted in the Harry Potter universe. Story is set at the beginning of the 5th school year (OotP) in an Alternate Universe where Draco is, seemingly, Harry's friend.

**Note on the Pairings:** Primary pairing is Harry/Draco. Secondary pairings include Harry/Hermione, Ron/Lavender, Draco/Ginny (these pairings are merely for the convenience of the plot)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything, I make no profit.

Thanks to Lena, my truly excellent beta.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

'_For when my outward action doth demonstrate  
The native act and figure of my heart  
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after  
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve  
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am._'  
-Iago

Draco Malfoy and Cormac McLaggen made their way across the Quidditch Pitch. It was early evening and, it being the first day of November, the sky was overcast and fast growing dark.

"Of course I'm angry, what do you expect? We had an agreement. I've held up my end, but what have you done? Bugger all." McLaggen fumed, his voice shaking with the effort of keeping it lowered. "You tell me it's going well. You tell me she's interested in me! Now you tell me she's got together with _him_."

Malfoy's gaze was fixed ahead. "She _is_ interested in you."

"Well, what more do I have to do? How much more do I have to spend?" McLaggen was silent for a moment before adding: "How long have you know he was interested in her?"

"Not long."

"Do you take me for an idiot?" he demanded, and not waiting for an answer, "You do, don't you? Well, you know what I think of you? I think your little lapdog routine isn't a routine at all. You pretend to hate him, but really you just want to drool over him with everyone else. You probably planned all this _for_ him…"

Malfoy halted suddenly, forcing McLaggen to pull up short.

"Do you think I_ like _Harry Potter?" asked Malfoy.

"It looks that way."

"We have been through this. How it looks and how it is are two different things. I hate him."

"Of course," McLaggen snorted.

"Potter thinks I'm his friend just like the rest of the school thinks I'm his friend. It's a lie I've been keeping up for the last four years." Malfoy's mouth twisted. "Four years…and still the only people he'll really bother with are the Weasel and the Mudblood. He knows I'm better than either of them, and he still chooses them. That does annoy me, I must say. But not much. I know it's only a matter of time until I get close enough. He won't know what I am, not until the end, and by then –"

"Yes, yes, you're very clever with your little secret agenda." McLaggen interrupted with a dismissive gesture. "You know, you're all talk and no trousers. If you have an issue with Potter, why don't you take it up with him and stop messing about? Duel him or something. Just see that he's smacked about thoroughly enough to remember not to cross you again. That's as complicated as the whole thing needs to get. You're wasting your time playing the Slytherin."

Malfoy inhaled deeply. "You're missing the point."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. Honesty – any of that. It's idiotic. Who's ever benefited themselves by being honest? My philosophy: do or say whatever you have to in order to get what you want. Above all, keep your real thoughts hidden. Start showing outside what's inside and things will go badly for you."

"Just duel him or something." McLaggen repeated, and in the same breath, "Look, it's freezing, what are we doing out here?"

"I assume you're still interested in pursuing the Mudblood?"

"Don't call her that." McLaggen snapped.

"Well?"

"Course I am. But I've already given you a ridiculous amount of money for jewelry and rubbish as it is. What about that Merrow Pearl necklace I paid an arm and a leg for? You said if I got her that she'd be mine. You've been disappearing off with my money for weeks, telling me 'just one more bracelet, just one more ring'. I've never seen her once wearing any of it!"

"Granger's modest. I thought you liked that about her."

"Well if she liked the gifts, and she's said she likes me, what she's doing getting together with Potter?" specks of spit flew from McLaggen's mouth. "Just my opinion, but it looks to me like you've messed up big time, Mr. Goddamn Go-Between."

"I've been doing my best." said Malfoy shortly. "I was making progress, then Potter had to swoop in and mess things up, as usual. It shouldn't be hard to turn Granger off him. She'll be desperate for you once she wakes up to Potter's inadequacies."

McLaggen contemplated this. "You think so?" he asked, then, folding his arms comfortably across his barrel chest, promptly answered his own question: "Well of course I know she likes me…it's just Potter getting in way."

"Mm." Malfoy agreed. His face was upturned towards the sky.

"So what is your plan?" said McLaggen, craning his head back as well. He started slightly as he caught sight of a tiny figure on a broomstick gliding through a controlled series of maneuvers high above their heads. "Who's –"

"Viktor Krum." said Malfoy. "He's on an exchange here for a month."

"Oh yeah, I think I heard about that..."

"I bet you don't know that during that time, Krum hopes to win over a certain Griffindor girl whose mysterious appeal I must say continues to elude me…"

"Are you being serious?" McLaggen sounded winded.

"They had a fling last year. Seems Krum still likes her a lot. He took part in the exchange especially for her. Rather pathetic."

"So you're saying I'm up against Potter _and_ Krum?"

"Don't worry. We're going to put Krum to good use. He won't be happy when he finds out Potter's moved in on Granger. If all goes well, they'll soon be at each others throats, leaving you a clear shot at showing Granger what she's missing. By the time they've had it out with each other, she'll already be yours." Malfoy put his hands in his pockets and continued watching Krum's distinctive hunched figure sailing back and forth against the mottled clouds like a crumpled leaf on murky water.

"That's…that's actually rather good." said McLaggen at length. His face was turning ruddy with excitement. "So when are you going to break the news to him? Soon?"

"_You're_ going to tell him, _now_."

"What! There's no way –"

"It won't work me telling him. I'm Potter's mate, remember?" Malfoy cocked a brow at McLaggen. "I have to be there, loyally by his side when Krum charges in all worked up, wanting to punch faces in. I think I've got the less pleasant job here. All you have to do is get talking to him, make some casual comment about Hermione Granger, the girl Potter's been shagging –"

"Watch it."

"– And he'll be rearing to go. Then simply point him in the direction of the Great Hall." Malfoy twisted his arm to get a look at his watch. "Dinner time. I want Krum and Potter to make a terrible scene, so really make sure you drive the point home. Go into detail – tell him Potter slept with her the night of the Yule Ball and they still laugh about it behind Krum's back."

"That's good, that's good." McLaggen chuckled. "You're a proper bastard, Malfoy."

"Just see to it that Krum looses his tempter. Who knows, if things go really well, Potter might attack Krum and get himself expelled."

"Convenient for you. Save you the embarrassment of losing again to Griffindor tomorrow." McLaggen sneered. He pointed suddenly. "Look, there he goes."

Malfoy watched through narrowed eyes as Krum glided, hawk-like and silent, towards the changing rooms.

"So you're going through with this?" Malfoy asked McLaggen. The burly youth hesitated, then grinned.

"There isn't a dare I've turned down yet. I'll do it."

They made for the changing rooms. Nearing the building, McLaggen clapped his hands together once, loudly.

"Tell you what, if this works, I'll have to admit there's something to be said about your approach after all."

Malfoy nodded, unsmilingly. "Good luck. You know where I'll be."

* * *

"All right, Weasely? You're not looking too cheerful." said Malfoy as he sidled up to the Griffindor table.

"I'm not feeling too cheerful." Ron was listlessly pushing a sausage around his plate.

"You're not still worrying about tomorrow?" said Malfoy.

"I have reason to worry." Ron groaned. "I just know I'm going to do something stupid like fall off my broom or get my foot stuck in the goal post…"

"Don't give me that rubbish." said Malfoy. "Harry told me all about that amazing save of yours the other day. You've got nothing to worry about. I mean, just look at who we've got for our Keeper – Miles Bletchley."

"Yeah, what's so wrong with him?" said Ron gloomily, though he had craned around to get a look at the Slytherin table and size up Bletchley for himself.

"There's nothing's _wrong_ with him. I mean, he's average," Malfoy shrugged. "But I was watching his broom handling at practice yesterday. Believe me, you're a better flyer."

"Shut up, you're just trying to make me feel better." said Ron gruffly, but he was clearly pleased, his ears reddening at the compliment. At that moment, Fred and George Weasely arrived. They made a show of jostling Malfoy on the way to their seats.

"Bloody Slytherins clogging up the isle!" George complained loudly, a grin on his face.

"You're taking your life in your hands standing here, Malfoy, you should be more careful." Fred cautioned him soberly, while at the same time planting his hand on Malfoy's head and thoroughly messing up his hair. "We wouldn't want you to get hexed by some loyal Griffindor supporters and miss the match tomorrow. Then who would we aim our Bludgers at?" Malfoy shoved him off, made a show of seeming half-indignant, half-amused. It was then that he caught sight of Harry.

"Mind asking your teammates to stop molesting me, Potter?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh as he watched Malfoy straightening his disheveled robes.

"Fred's right you know." He said. "This side of the Hall isn't the safest place for you at the moment."

"Maybe," said Ron. "But from the look on Montague's face, the Slytherin end's not be much better."

Harry and Malfoy followed Ron's gaze and saw that the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Montague, was watching them from the other end of the Great Hall with a black expression. Malfoy turned back to Ron with a grimace.

"And you think _you've_ got reason to be worried? Montague probably thinks I'm telling you all his ingenious strategies." Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Your team still giving you a hard time?" Harry asked quietly.

"No, not really, but you know how it is. I'm not making myself very popular 'fraternizing with the enemy'. I wonder, can enemies give each other advice? Because if so, here's some for you, Potter: get a good night's sleep tonight. We all know how sloppy your feint gets when you haven't had enough sleep. It's embarrassing."

"_My _feint? If I was you I'd be worrying about that suicidal Wronski of yours." Harry retorted. "You need to remember to pull up; I don't want to be scraping you off the pitch."

"All right, I think that's enough advice. If Angelina heard any of this she'd kill you." said Ron nervously.

"Good point." Harry darted a quick look up and down the table to see if the Griffindor Captain was nearby.

"How goes it with Miss Granger then?" Malfoy asked.

Harry avoided his eye, cheeks coloured. "Oh, well, yeah–"

"It's nauseating." said Ron. "I've had to put up with the two of them all day being kissy-faced and lovey-dovey."

"What was that, Ron?" Hermione's voice made them all jump. She had crept up behind Harry unnoticed. Malfoy watched her brush her hand along his shoulder. Harry coloured even more and stared at her with a soft smile on his lips. She held his look for a lingering moment before turning to address Malfoy.

"Good luck for tomorrow, Draco."

"Thanks, it should be a good match. And while we're on the subject of good matches…congratulations on roping Potter."

"Why thank you." said Hermione with a note of satisfaction, as if receiving praise for a particularly inspired essay.

"Though it took the pair of you long enough." Malfoy smirked.

"You can say that again." Ron snorted.

"Oh yeah, like it didn't take you just as long to work up the nerve to ask Lavender out." Harry retorted.

"So when are you going to go public?" Malfoy asked. Harry and Hermione exchanged uneasy looks.

"Just as soon as Viktor leaves Hogwarts." Hermione sighed. "He says he still has feelings for me."

"Krum? Really?" said Malfoy.

"Yes. He can't seem to accept that I no longer feel the same way. He'd be devastated if he found about me and Harry so soon. It's better to wait until there's enough time and…distance between us."

"I can't imagine he'd be too angry." said Malfoy. "He'll take one look at you and Harry and see you're meant for each other. Match made in heaven. All that stuff."

"Please, don't you start as well." said Ron.

"Oi, Malfoy!" A loud voice barked. Several people glanced around at Montague, for the loud voice belonged to him.

"Looks like you're wanted." Harry muttered. An expression of intense annoyance crossed Malfoy's face, but he shrugged it off and obediently made his way across the crowded Great Hall to his house's table. Professor Snape, seated at the staff table, was watching him with cold, reproachful eyes. The Potions Master appeared to be the only person who disapproved of Malfoy's familiarity with the Griffindors more than Montague.

Harry felt a keen stab of sympathy for Malfoy, noting the looks which he endured. Montague had risen from his seat. A good head taller than his Seeker, he struck an intimidating figure. Harry didn't like the way he planted a hand on the back of Malfoy's neck and stared aggressively into his face as he delivered his reprimand.

"What do you think the Sorting Hat was playing at putting him in Slytherin?" said Ron, voicing the exact thought which had been passing through Harry's mind.

"It obviously had its reasons." said Hermione as she and Harry sat down. "Besides, I'm personally glad he's not in Griffindor."

"That's a bit strong." Ron looked taken aback.

"I don't mean it like that. Don't you realize what a positive example Draco's setting? If people can see that you don't have to be in the same house to be friends, then they'll realise how ridiculous all this animosity between the houses is. Remember the Sorting Hat's song? 'We must unite'? A friendship between Griffindors and a Slytherin is a step in the right direction, don't you think, Harry? Harry?"

But Harry's attention was now on the doors of the Great Hall, through which Viktor Krum had just stalked. Harry didn't at all like the rigid look of fury on his face as he made for the Griffindor table. Hermione had just caught sight of Krum herself, and she'd half-risen from her seat to greet him, when he launched himself at Harry, grabbing the front of his robes and hauling him to his feet. Harry had no time to react as Krum's fist struck his face. He felt a blaze, heard his jaws crack together. The blow jarred him. In the next instant his elbow connected sharply with stone and he found himself sprawled on the floor, shouts filling the air. Hermione was at his side.

"Harry – Harry, are you alright?" she cried. He touched his mouth, numb and foreign like it was someone else's. His lip had split and his fingers came away sticky. Grunts and curses could be heard. Ron, Fred and George all had hold of Krum, and it was taking their combined efforts to keep him from going for Harry again.

Hermione stared up at Krum in disbelief.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded in a tight voice.

"You thought I vouldn't find out?" Krum growled, still struggling against the Weaselys, dark eyes murderous and fixed on Harry.

"Find out what?" said Hermione. She turned to Harry without meaning to and the alarm in her eyes told him that they could both guess what Krum had found out.

"Move aside!" Professor McGonagall's sharp tones could be heard as she made her way through the small crowd of Griffindors who had risen from their seats see what the commotion was about. Catching sight first of Krum, then of Harry, who being helped up by Hermione, a look of surprise flitted across her stern features.

"What is going on here? Mr. Krum?"

Krum ignored her and continued straining like a wild boar.

"He's gone nuts." Fred said through gritted teeth. "Just ran up and punched Harry out of nowhere."

"He deserved it and more!" said Krum, chest heaving.

"Calm yourself this instant, Krum, unless you want me to use a Body-Bind Curse on you!" McGonagall barked, placing herself in Krum's eye-line so that he had no choice but to meet her gaze. Krum glared at her mutinously, but the uncompromising threat communicated in the set line of McGonagall's lips and the pinched furrow between her brows was enough to somewhat cool his fury. He grew still and the Weaselys cautiously released him.

"Good." McGonagall barked. "Now, you're coming with me to my office and you'd better have a good explanation for –"

But with a gesture like a striking serpent, Krum whipped out his wand and pointed it in Harry's direction. Krum's lips moved to form the words of what Harry felt sure was a very unpleasant hex – but in the instant before any sound could escape him, someone else shouted:

"_Expelliarmus!_"

The wand flew out of Krum's hand and straight into Professor Snape's. The Potions Master had descended upon the scene, black robes rippling behind him.

"Perhaps you are not yet familiar with Hogwarts code of conduct, Mr. Krum," said Snape quietly. "We do not allow students to use magic to attack one another here."

Now standing quite still, his hands fisted at his sides, Krum lowered his head and scowled at the flour. Snape turned to McGonagall, who just then looked almost too outraged to speak.

"I will deal with this. Krum is, after all, an honorary member of my house for the duration of his exchange…however short-lived that proves to be in light of his behavior."

"Well, I think I too would like to hear why a member of _my_ house has been attacked without provocation." McGonagall replied curtly. "My office is nearest."

Snape inclined his head ever so slightly.

"I want to speak to you, Potter," McGonagall said. She glanced between Harry and Hermione before adding: "And you, Granger."

It was then that Harry became aware that he was holding Hermione's hand.

McGonagall turned to lead the way out of the Great Hall, keeping a close eye on Krum.

"I'll wait up for you." Ron said to Harry and Hermione. Snape followed last of all. The level of noise in the Great Hall rose, students all at once voicing speculations about the inexplicable incident.

"Why's Krum suddenly out to kill your boy?" Montague said at Malfoy's shoulder. He spoke the word 'boy' with a malicious sneer.

"Can't imagine." Malfoy murmured. He turned away as Snape glided past the Slytherin table, avoiding the Potions Master's piercing gaze.


	2. Chapter 2

With thanks to Lena, my truly excellent beta reader.

**Chapter 2**

'_She must change for youth:  
when she is sated with his body,  
she will find the error of her choice: she must  
have change, she must: therefore put money in thy  
purse._'  
-Iago

Malfoy swore under his breath when he caught sight of McLaggen the next morning, agitatedly pacing around the Entrance Hall. Relaxing his shoulders with an effort and carefully assuming a distracted expression, Malfoy hurried across the flagstone with his head down, pretending not to have noticed the other youth.

"Oi, you!" McLaggen said at once, grabbing his shoulder. "I want a word with you."

"Oh, it's you, Cormac." Malfoy said mildly. He glanced pointedly over his shoulder at the doors of the Great Hall. "I really can't be seen talking to you right now, I have to prepare for the match. Maybe later on–"

"I don't think so." McLaggen gritted out. "You're going to explain to me right here and now what happened last night!"

"What do you want me to say? The plan did not work as I'd expected it to."

"No kidding! Krum barely laid a finger on Potter before McGonagall stepped in. He's already made his peace with Potter – oh yes, straightened everything out, all a big misunderstanding, even gave them his sodding blessing! He's returning to Durmstrang at the end of the week."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure – him and Potter just shook hands in front of the rest of the sodding school!"

"Keep your voice down." Malfoy shifted back a couple of steps to shield himself from view behind one of the suits of armor either side of the main doors. He motioned for McLaggen to join him. "Ok, just calm down. There's no reason to fly off the handle –"

"No reason?" McLaggen cried. "No reason? This was my last shot at getting Hermione! Krum and Potter were supposed to get expelled. That hasn't exactly happened, has it? Now what am I supposed to do? Hermione'll never leave him for me. The whole thing's hopeless!"

"It's not hopeless."

McLaggen shook his head. All the strength seemed suddenly to have gone out of him. "I give up. She doesn't want anything to do with me. I've been completely stupid –"

"Come on, don't say that."

"I have! It's obvious she wants none of it. I should just leave well alone. What's the point?"

"The point is, Granger and Potter aren't going to last." Malfoy answered calmly. "I'm telling you the truth. I'll bet you they'll have broken up by the end of the week."

"What are you talking about?" McLaggen was looking at him dubiously.

"Cormac, how much do you know about girls?" Malfoy asked. McLaggen snorted and straightened up, regaining some of his usual cockiness and throwing out his chest a little.

"A damn sight more than you I'd guess, Malfoy –"

"Then you ought to have realized by now that Granger's only with Potter for one reason."

"You don't know what you're talking about…"

"She's curious." Malfoy said simply, and with the tone of someone pointing out the boringly obvious. "How long has she been friends with old scarhead, the great Harry Potter? Of course she's always wondered, had her little fantasies, got a bit hot and bothered. You know how girls are. Now she's got him, the novelty will quickly wear off. She'll sleep with him a couple times, find out he's not all he's cracked up to be, and get bored. Come on, I mean she's too smart not to know she can do better, am I right?"

"You honestly believe that?" McLaggen tried to sound skeptical, but already his eyes were shining with renewed hope.

"Honestly." Malfoy smiled. "I'm willing to put money on it. You'll see, by the end of this week they'll be history. I'll make sure of it."

"You'll make sure? How?"

"I have something special in mind – that's all I'll say for now." Malfoy tapped his nose knowingly. McLaggen grinned.

"Alright. Let's give it another go, eh?"

"That's more like it. I knew you weren't the kind to give up easily." said Malfoy. He moved away from the suit of armor. "Now, I'm going to breakfast."

"See you later." McLaggen called after him. "Oh, and good luck in the match. You'll need it."

"Idiot." Malfoy muttered as he strode into the Great Hall, his voice lost in the excited buzz of conversation. Moving along the Slytherin table, Malfoy nodded to the housemates who hailed him with words of encouragement, ignored those who yelled threats. For the most part his housemates shouted words of encouragement, though more than one shouted a threat. It was the same before every Quidditch match against Griffindor. There were a number of bitter Slytherins who were convinced that in the past Malfoy had purposefully allowed Potter to get to the Snitch before him because of the apparent friendship between the Seekers. They didn't know that they were giving Malfoy too much credit.

"Hurry up and get something down." Montague said by way of greeting as Malfoy took a seat opposite him. Crabbe and Goyle, who were close by, seemed to think that the Captain was addressing them, and immediately increased the rate at which they were shoveling scrambled egg and bacon into their mouths. Malfoy forced a smile for the, concealing his digust with practiced ease.

"I want us on the pitch before the Griffindors." Montague added, glaring across the Hall at the house in question. Malfoy too had his attention fixed on the other table, where, much as every Slytherin wore green and silver, practically no Griffindor could be seen in anything other than red and gold. In fact, only the players themselves wore their usual school robes. It was consequently easy for Malfoy to pick out Harry. He was sitting with Hermione, Ginny Weasely and Ron, chatting to a small Ravenclaw girl with long, dirty-blonde hair.

"What's that girl got on her head?" said Montague. He glanced at Malfoy. "You've got weird taste in friends."

Malfoy said nothing.

The sky that morning was chalky white, the air was bitingly cold. The Slytherin team made their way down the sloping lawns towards the stadium. As they were changing into their Quidditch robes, Montague took the opportunity to recap on the tactics, firstly giving some brief words of advice to Crabbe and Goyle ("knock them off their brooms"), then speaking at greater length to Warrington and Pucey about the importance of holding formation, and reminding Bletchley to keep his grip flexible on his broom. By the time he came to Malfoy, the noise of the awaiting spectators who had filled the stands outside had reached a dull roar.

"I don't think I need to repeat what we talked about at practice." Montague said to Malfoy in a rather hostile undertone. "Just remember, the second you're off the ground, Potter stops being your little boyfriend. All you're going to think about is beating him. Understood?"

Malfoy's lip curled, but he was wise enough to duck his head subserviently.

"All right then." Montague shouldered his broom. "Let's beat them into the ground!"

The Slytherins shouted their approval and filed out. The cheers they received were nothing to the welcome that greeted the Griffindors as they stepped onto the pitch minutes later. It was clear who the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had turned out to support.

Malfoy's eyes followed Harry the moment he emerged from the changing rooms. He looked away only long enough to smirk at Fred and George as they passed, both of them grinning and pointing their bats menacingly at him; and to nod reassuringly to Ron, who was very pale and looked on the verge of bringing up his breakfast – and then Harry had come to a halt in front of him.

"Recovered from last night?" said Malfoy, raising his voice to be heard over the noise from the stands.

"Not serious." Harry shouted back, gesturing to the bruise on his lip.

"Very fetching." said Malfoy. They both glanced quickly up to check that Madam Hooch hadn't yet finished delivering her 'good, clean game' lecture to the Captains before turning to one another again. "Sorted with Krum then?" Malfoy asked.

"Yeah, he apologized. I'll tell you about it afterwards."

"Captains, shake hands," Came Madam Hooch's familiar call, and then: "Mount your brooms!"

"No holding back." Harry called to Malfoy over the roar of anticipation from the spectators.

"No holding back." Malfoy swung his leg over his broom and crouched low.

The shrill blast of the whistle cut through the air.

* * *

**Review Responses:** thanks so much to fifespice, my first reviewer. Yes, you've got the just of things, which is a relief! I had my concerns that the plot might be a bit perplexing as it required some serious meddling with established canon relationships. Once again, thank you for taking the time to comment, much appreciated. 


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to Lena, my truly excellent beta.

**Chapter 3**

_Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue_  
_to the history of lust and foul thoughts.__ They met  
__so near with their lips that their breaths embraced_  
_together._ _'  
_-Iago

The faces in the stands were nothing but pink smears with black mouths, screaming, roaring to a thunderous climax. The two Seekers were indistinguishable striving forms, cutting tight arcs, desperate and reckless, just barely in tandem. The Snitch, with its hummingbird-dart, weaved ahead just out of reach. Harry somehow read a hint in the Snitch's random motions, and launched himself, without hesitation, along the length of his broom, arm outstretched. Malfoy watched through watering eyes. He assessed the deft movement of Harry's arm, the changed posture of his back as he straightened. He knew at once that it was over, and he pulled his broom to a sharp halt. Harry did the same. He wheeled around to face Malfoy and they stared at each other and panted as if they had run the whole way.

The Snitch struggled in Harry's white-knuckled fist.

Slytherin had lost.

The air thrummed with applause.

"That was close." Harry bellowed. He was trying to conceal his elation for the sake of his friend. "You were fast – if you'd seen it a second earlier –"

"You were faster." Malfoy guided his broom close and slapped him on the shoulder. "Good game, Potter."

Harry nodded, a wry grin on his face. Just then Fred and George came barreling into him, whooping loudly. Malfoy backed off as the rest of the Griffindor team flocked to Harry, screaming and laughing with abandon as the sustained tension of the game lifted.

The Slytherins hung suspended and disassociated. Montague was gripping the Quaffle rigidly in his hands. One by one they filtered down.

The Slytherin side of the stands was rapidly emptying. The Griffindor spectators were as irrepressible as if they had won the Cup already.

Malfoy fell in behind Warrington and the others as they filed off the pitch, stony-faced.

"Nice one, Malfoy." Warrington muttered.

"Shut up, I didn't see you score once." Malfoy snapped. As they neared the changing rooms, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder. The Griffindor team had landed and a crowd of supporters were charging across the pitch towards them. As Malfoy watched, Harry broke away from his teammates and sprinted to meet Hermione. He held her in his arms, kissed her flushed face. Then he was swamped and dragged once more into the jubulant tumult. Ron was at Hermione's side. She embraced him with congratulations. He spoke fast and animatedly, touching her arm. She laughed.

A smile curved Malfoy's thin lips.

When the Slytherins were all in, Montague closed the door of the changing room with violent force. He seemed to be the only one with any energy left. The rest of them were too exhausted or despondent to do much more than slump down on the bench.

"What was that out there?" He snarled, brandishing the Quaffle that he still had hold of. "How many times do we have to lose to those _smug_ bastards?"

"It's only the first match of the season." Bletchley pointed out wearily. He barely managed to duck in time as the Quaffle came flying at him.

"That's not the point!" Montague roared. "You lot looked like you hadn't set foot on a Quidditch pitch in your lives! What have we been training our guts out for? You're an embarrassment!"

"We were doing fine until Malfoy lost it for us." Warrington said quietly.

"You, shut it. I'm the Captain, if I think Malfoy screwed up, _I'll _call him on it." Montague glared around the room. No one met his eye. "Alright. Now I don't know about you, but I'm not about to loose that cup another year. Let's bloody well get our act together."

He paused for effect, then lumbered off into the Captain's office. The rant over, everyone wanted to shower and go as quickly as they could.

"Malfoy." Montague stuck his head out the office. "A word."

Malfoy felt himself the object of the others' scrutiny. He looked tense as he stepped into the Captain's office. Warrington elbowed Pucey.

"Watch, he's for it now."

Malfoy shut the door behind him. The rest of the team would not hear.

"I told you, you're on thin ice." Montague said quietly. He was leaning on the desk, undoing the straps of his arm guards.

Malfoy lifted his chin. "You know what I'm up against."

"I don't care." said Montague. "I don't care if Potter's a better player. We went over the tactics. We agreed you would do anything necessary to keep him from the Snitch."

"Hooch was –"

"Spare me the excuses." Montague nodded past Malfoy. "You know that lot expect me to throw you off the team."

"Are you going to?"

"I don't know."

"Look." Malfoy took a step closer to Montague. When he spoke again his voice was low. "What would you say if I told you there was a way to get half the Griffindor team banned?"

Montague stiffened. The atmosphere in the small room changed.

"What?"

"The three Weaselys, Potter, possibly Johnson." Malfoy turned and looked through the glass window set in the door to make sure that no one was listening in. He turned back to Montague. "How would you like them taken out of the game?"

"I'm not in the mood for this, Malfoy. If you're taking the piss –"

"I'm completely serious."

"How then?"

"You'd have to agree to go with me to their Common Room tonight." Malfoy studied Montague closely, grey eyes communicating nothing. "You're going to find this hard to understand...but I hate Potter."

"Is that right?" Montague smiled coldly.

Malfoy grimaced and bowed his head.

"Look…you know I'm going out with Ginny Weasely?" Malfoy said quietly. He shifted his weight to one foot, then the other. Montague took casual note of the display.

"Yeah, I know." Montague prompted.

"Well, I've reason to believe…" Malfoy looked him in the eye with an effort. "I've heard Potter slept with her, right? And I'm slightly pissed off about it."

"Potter? Your mate Potter?"

"Maybe he was my mate once." Malfoy shook his head. "Not anymore."

"So you've come up with some plan to get him banned from Quidditch?"

"We'll use Umbridge. She's got it in for him."

"You honestly expect me to believe this?"

"Just let me tell you what I've got in mind." Said Malfoy. "If afterwards you still don't want a part in it, we can just forget about it –"

"Alright, alright. I'll hear you out."

Malfoy smiled. "I had a feeling you would."

* * *

When Malfoy finally left the changing room, his hair still damp from his shower, the sky was spilling snow. He hastened up the slope to the castle and was unsurprised to find McLaggen waiting for him in the Entrance Hall. 

"Credit to you, you didn't play badly – Griffindor just played better." McLaggen said without preamble. "Your weakness is essentially in your Chasers, and Montague should think about losing Pucey or Warrington for a real attacker –"

"That's fascinating." Malfoy cut him off. "I'm sure he'll be more than happy to take pointers from you tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Montague and I will be dropping by your Common Room later to extend our congratulations." Malfoy said. "It's called good sportsmanship."

"Oh yes? I suppose this has something to do with your plan...?"

"It may." Malfoy steered Montague away from the doors to the Great Hall and into the shadowy passage to one side of the marble staircase. They stood at the top of the steps that led down into the dungeons. A chilly draught stirred their robes. McLaggen shivered.

"I've just learned of some new developments." said Malfoy. "It seems that Granger is after Ron Weasely."

"I can't believe that!" McLaggen snorted.

"It's true. Don't you remember what I told you? She's bored with Potter already. She's gorged herself on him, now she's sick of him. I've spoken with Potter, I know they've been shagging like rabbits –"

"Fine! Fine. So maybe she is bored – but _Weasely_? Come off it."

"Did you watch her after the match?" said Malfoy. From McLaggen's silence, it was obvious that he had. "You saw how she hugged him."

"She's _mates_ with Ron. Girls hug their mates."

"And the way she was looking at him? Didn't you see how she blushed? It's called flirting, Cormac." Malfoy sighed. "Weasely and Potter have always been her two best friends. She's had Potter – of course she'll want Weasely now. That's the way girls are. Maybe Weasely isn't as good-looking as Potter, but he's got, I don't know, a quality about him. Granger's hungry for him."

"You think?"

"I know. When I was watching them earlier, they were practically kissing. Just about had their tongues down each other's throats."

"Really?" McLaggen said roughly.

"If you ask me, she doesn't really know what she wants. If we can get Weasely out of the picture, she'll turn to you. Just think about it."

"How are we supposed to get rid of him then? And even if we did, haven't we still got Potter to worry about?"

"Potter's on his way out. If we focus on Weasely, the field will be clear." said Malfoy. "All you have to do is be there tonight, I'll tell you more when the time comes. Are you up for it?"

"If it'll work, I'll do whatever it takes."

"Good. Montague and I will be in the Common Room at midnight. Make sure you're there."

* * *

**Review responses: **ProperT - thanks so much for the kind comments. Hope you're enticed enough to keep reading. Iago, the villain of the play on which this fic is based, is a true master of manipulation. I had my reservations about casting Malfoy in such a crafty role; I thought I'd really have to write him rather out-of-character, but when I take his bout of sneakiness and plotting in HBP into account, I think perhaps he has more in common with Iago than I first thought. Seishou - please know that I really appreciated your review, just reading it filled me with motivation to write this chapter. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_If consequence do but approve my dream,  
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.  
_-Iago

Montague licked his fingers and tried to smooth down his wiry hair.

"Well then? Respectable enough for you?" He demanded.

"Very nice." said Malfoy. "But your collar – here –" He reached out and straightened and folded the bent collar of the clean, white shirt that Montague had on under his robes. The shirt looked at least one size too small.

Malfoy sniffed. "And aftershave too? You've outdone yourself."

"Shut it." Montague shoved him back. "The only reason I agreed to do this –"

"Of course." Malfoy cut in. "I know this isn't easy, but it has to be done if you want Potter and the rest out of the way. Have you got straight in your head what you're going to say?"

"Yeah." Montague muttered.

"Let's go through it one more time." said Malfoy.

Montague exhaled loudly through his nose. He fixed his gaze on a point beyond Malfoy's shoulder.

"Look, Johnson…just wanted to say…" He pulled a face and tugged at his collar. "You know…you played a – a good game, and… shit! This isn't going to work."

"You were doing fine."

"It sounds fake."

"It sounds like you're pissed off –"

"I am."

"That's fine. It makes it more believable. No one expects you to be on top of the world; we lost the match. You're obviously going to be disappointed. The point is, you're a good enough sport to acknowledge them as the winners."

"Yeah, right."

"Just charm Johnson, do whatever it takes. Once she's loosened up, imply you'd like to have a drink with her in the common room –"

"How do I do that?"

"Comment on the party or something, ask her if she's enjoying herself. You can even make a joke about how you've probably put a dampener on the celebration. She'll have to deny it to be polite, at which point you can thank her and tell her you appreciate her agreeing to talk to you. Just don't tense up if it's awkward – turn it to your advantage."

"Right..." Montague was looking rather pale and staring at Malfoy as if he'd just started speaking Swedish. Malfoy sighed. He rarely let on just how adept he was at analysis, but on the occasions when he did, it tended to spook people.

"Just make sure you focus on her, don't even think about the rest." He said.

"So how am I supposed to get her on her own?" Montague demanded. "And while we're at it, how the hell am I going to get in to talk to her in the first place? They're not going to let me through the door."

"Actually, it's a hole in the wall… I'll go in first and tell her you want a word. It'll look more polite that way."

"So it'll just be me and her?" Montague fidgeted with the too-tight cuffs of his shirt. Malfoy hid a smirk. Montague's nervousness would work in his favor. Malfoy could easily imagine Angelina feeling a thrill of dominance when confronted with the Slytherin Captain's awkwardness. But was Montague really capable of charming the girl? Malfoy studied his blunt features. His mouth was crooked, but capable of a full smile. He formed his words with roughness, his voice deep, rather nasal. His nose was flat and brutish and dominated his face. Slow, slightly squinting, his eyes weren't unpleasant beneath heavy brows. In his present gruff, exposed state, there was something appealing about him.

"You'll be fine." said Malfoy.

"Let's just get it over with."

The echo of music suddenly spilt down the passage. Malfoy could guess the source of the noise. He glanced at Montague meaningfully. At the Captain's terse nod, they set off.

Rounding the bend in the corridor, they spotted of a small group of Gryffindors clustered around

the entrance to their common room. The portrait of the Fat Lady was hanging obligingly open as two boys clumsily maneuvered a crate of butterbeer through the hole in the wall.

"Wait here." Malfoy said. Montague hung back and Malfoy hastened towards the group. He was not surprised to find Ginny among them, waiting. Her face was white and pinched.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming." She said coldly.

Malfoy looked past her. "I'm here now."

"Well, can we go somewhere and talk?" She smiled tightly, her voice scornful. "If you think you can make the time."

"I've just had quite a shitty day, I don't know if you're aware of that. And it isn't going to be over until I do this thing for Montague, so can we just go inside…" he took her by the shoulder and tried to steer her towards the common room. She resisted him, twisting around to look back down the corridor.

"Montague? What is he –?"

"We'll talk about it later." Malfoy said impatiently. "Oh, by the way," He lowered his voice. "Did you get those things I asked for from Fred and George?"

Ginny reached into her robes and drew out a crumpled brown paper bag. Malfoy snatched it from her.

"There's one of everything like you asked for." She said flatly.

"Good." Malfoy quickly checked the bag's contents before tucking it into his trouser pocket. "I promised Fred I'd hand a few out, let the Slytherins have a taste of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

Ginny said nothing.

The Gryffindor common room was packed despite the lateness of the hour, and the celebratory mood was still thick in the air. Malfoy lost Ginny in the rowdy gaggle through the portrait hole and he made no effort to relocate her. He decided to make of the fireplace, where the most people seemed to have gathered. On his way, he accidentally knocked into someone's elbow, causing them to spill their butterbeer.

"Sorry." He muttered, starting when he found himself face-to-face with Angelina.

"Watch it – oh, it's you, Malfoy! Fancy seeing you here." She said loudly, drawing a few stares. She made a point of clapping him on the shoulder. "Nice bit of flying today."

"Thank you." Malfoy assumed his most charming smile.

"It was actually a fun game – and I'm not just saying that because we won." Angelina went on solemnly. "Great to finally play one of those 'good, clean' ones Madame Hooch is always harping on about, you know?"

"Listen, Angelina," Malfoy wet his lips, feigning hesitation. "Um, I actually need to speak to you about something."

"What is it?"

"It's – it's Montague. He's acting a bit strange."

"Oh?" Angelina frowned, moving closer. He knew had her complete attention now.

"It's nothing bad or anything…he just went really quiet after the match, didn't have a go at us like I was expecting him to. And then just now, out of the blue he told me…"

"What?"

"He told me he wanted to talk to you."

Angelina's frown deepened.

"I know how it sounds," Malfoy said swiftly. "But I honestly don't think he's trying anything on. In fact, he told me to tell you that if you don't feel comfortable talking to him, he'll go."

"Go? Where is he now?" Angelina's eyes darted about the room.

"He's outside in the corridor." said Malfoy. Angelina studied him thoughtfully.

"What do you think he wants to talk about?" She asked slowly. Malfoy pretended to consider.

"I couldn't say." He said. "All I know is that he seems nervous about it."

Angelina turned away, her gaze settling on the portrait hole.

"Seriously though, I can just tell him you'd rather not…" said Malfoy.

"No." Angelina set her shoulders. "I'll get to the bottom of this. Might as well hear what the git's got to say."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Malfoy asked.

"No. Thanks anyway. I've got a feeling this is between the two of us." Saying nothing more, she left.

Malfoy watched her. He couldn't afford to relax yet, but for the time being at least things were out of his hands. It was up to Montague now.

Malfoy was startled to feel a touch on his arm.

"Everything alright?" It was Harry. "We were starting to worry that they'd strung you up from the Whomping Willow or something."

"Oh, no, nothing quite that bad –" Malfoy cleared his throat. Faltered. Harry was leaning close in order to hear him over the music. Malfoy felt something convulsive like panic at his nearness, a stab of self-loathing. The blood beat in his cheeks.

"So they didn't have a go at you about the game?" Harry was watching him intently.

"No, oddly enough…" Malfoy forced out a light breath of laughter and repeated what he'd just told Angelina, haltingly at first, and then more fluently as the lies came easily from his mouth. His self-assurance returned as he wove in more details, strengthening the weaker parts until a luminous structure seemed to rear up in his mind and every fragment and thread seemed in his reach.

"You think he wants to make peace with Angelina?" Harry asked incredulously once he was done.

"Who knows? Maybe he fancies her." Malfoy shrugged. Just then Harry nudged him and nodded towards the portrait hole. Angelina had returned, and Montague was with her. His expression was surly, hopelessly embarrassed, and he kept his eyes determinedly fixed on his shoes. A dramatic dip in the noise-level greeted the unlikely pair. If the welcome Malfoy had earlier received from Angelina's friends had been uncomfortable, this was downright excruciating. People were pointing and gaping. The speechless crowd parted for them as Angelina, doing her best to ignore the attention, led Montague to a less exposed corner of the room where the crate of smuggled butterbeers had been deposited on a desk. As the two Captains awkwardly clinked their bottles together in some inaudible toast, the conversation in the common room didn't so much resume as explode as the Gryffindors collectively expressed their disbelief in a tumult of mutterings and giggles.

"Never thought I'd see the day." Malfoy added his voice to the general chorus. The slight tone of satisfaction in his voice must have betrayed him, because Harry favored him with a knowing grin. Before he could reply though, Hermione and Ron bustled over.

"What on earth is Montague doing here?" Hermione hissed.

"Chatting up Angelina, apparently." Ron snorted.

"Draco reckons he came to congratulate her." said Harry.

"Yeah?" Ron blinked. "Did he take a Bludger to the head during the match or something?"

"I don't like it," said Hermione. "Why does he suddenly want to act all chummy? I think Angelina may be being too trusting…"

"Hold on, weren't you the one going on about friendship between the houses just yesterday?" said Ron.

"Yes, but…I mean, I was talking about Draco." Hermione reddened slightly. "Montague's a whole other matter. He's _never_ acted in a civil way towards Gryffindor before, let alone –"

"People's actions don't always mirror their attitudes." Malfoy pointed out. "From what I've seen, I think that since he was made Captain, Montague's always been under pressure to stir things up between the houses. I saw Snape laying into him after the match –" (it was so effortless to draw on the rich construction of lies still fresh in his mind) "– he was really giving him a hard time. Maybe Montague's just finally had enough, and what better way to stick it to Snape than this?" Malfoy smirked and glanced over at Angelina and Montague. "Then again, maybe he's just hoping to pull tonight."

Harry and Ron chuckled. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Anyway," Malfoy turned to Ron. He needed to shift the attention elsewhere. It would be dangerous to underestimate Hermione and allow her too much time to properly consider things. He slapped Ron on the back. "You, Weasely – that's the last time I listen to _you_ go on about what a crappy Keeper you are!"

"Huh? Oh – yeah!" Ron's face lit up. "Did you see my saves? Were you watching?"

"I did notice you were upside-down at one point – when you made that one-handed catch."

"Which was that?" Ron asked eagerly. He wanted it played out again, the full blow-by-blow.

"Oh yes, there were just so many, it's hard to remember." Malfoy elbowed him. Out of the corner of his eye, he tried to keep track of Montague. From the looks of it, the Slytherin Captain was managing to hold his own in a conversation with Angelina despite still being under the intense scrutiny of everyone around him. The important thing was that he was inside.

The first stage of the plan had succeeded.

* * *

**A/N:** It took quite a while to update, apologies!

**Review Responses:** ProperT – yes, McLaggen isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but what can we expect from a guy who'll eat a pound of Doxy eggs on a dare? Thanks for the kind comments :) fifespice – phew, nice to see things are still making sense! Thanks so much for taking the time to review, I really appreciate it.


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